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YOUNG HUNTERS IN PORTO RICO

While Danny was nursing the fire into a big blaze, several flocks of birds flew over the cliff. At once the boys got out their firearms and half a dozen shots brought down twice that number of the feathered specie. The birds were speedily dressed, and cooked, and made a welcome addition to their otherwise scant breakfast.

Robert Menden was anxious that no more time be lost, and promptly at noon, with clothing once more dried, they started off again for the caves. Carlos Remora had disappeared entirely, nor did he show up again, thinking that all of the party were buried under the fallen ceiling of the cave.

The side of the mountain was wet and slippery, and they had to proceed with care, for fear of slipping into some hollow and becoming seriously hurt.

On all sides were the evidences of the terrific storm—shattered trees, bushes laid flat, and here and there a ripped-up portion of grass, as if some giant's hand had reached down and twisted it up from the roots.

"It's wonderful what a power the wind has when it lets itself loose," remarked Dick. "I'm awfully glad we weren't caught out in the open."

"That's so," said Don. "We would have been blown to Kingdom Come."